


Into The Night

by drowsyfantasy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, M/M, Vampire Hubert von Vestra, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-27 00:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsyfantasy/pseuds/drowsyfantasy
Summary: When Duke Aiger seizes power in 1171, it's not a soft coup. It's a violent, messy, bloody affair, but Ferdinand never understood why. Why does no one ever speak of the royal family? Why is he sent away to school for so long? And why is it, that when he comes home years later, does he feel like he's being watched from every shadow?
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 12
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

His memories of that day were fuzzy, as he'd only been nine years old, but Ferdinand could remember a few things. 

_ The smell of gunpowder in the air, frightened screams from the palace staff, being ushered away to the outside and shoved into a carriage. Why had he even been there in the first place? And flames, licking the outside of the building hungrily. _

Ferdinand leaned on his elbow and stared out the window, watching as the palace grew ever-closer. In the ten years he’d been away at the formal officers academy, it had been fully repaired and seemed more opulent than ever. There even seemed to be a variety of new things on the grounds around it, including what appeared to be a hedge maze filled with roses. 

_ Vanity _, Ferdinand thought to himself, though he couldn’t really figure out if he disliked it. Nobility had to conduct itself a certain way, but surely their power was meant to help others and protect people in need. He moved back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap, and waited to arrive at the gate. 

He was polite and warm to the servants who gathered up his bags, walking with them and chatting with a gardener before heading inside to meet his father, who welcomed him back with open arms and an awkward hug for not having seen his son in a decade. Ferdinand hugged him back, feeling very uncomfortable indeed. In the intervening years his father had put on a lot of weight and lost most of his hair, and had it not been for his face, he would be almost unrecognizable. His mother seemed the same, if a little greyer, and as he toured the imperial palace’s changes, he tried to commit it all to memory again. 

Since he’d graduated, he was coming back to help his father, the Prime Minister, run the nation. In the southern wing of the palace was a set of rooms for him: a bedroom, bathroom, and two offices - one formal, one for withdrawing. His bags were left in the bedroom, and his parents departed for bed, leaving him alone, quiet, in this new place. 

He didn’t have much to unpack, so he didn’t call back any of the servants. Instead, he put away his few personal belongings and opened the curtains, overlooking the hedge maze, tying them back on the hooks so he could have a bit of natural light in the silence of his room. 

Eventually, though, he grew too tired to do much else and, stripping down to his nethers and putting on a night-shirt, Ferdinand retreated to his bed. 

_ The ceilings were taller. He was shorter, smaller, a child. This didn’t make sense, he’d never been here when he was small, had he? Then again, if this was a dream, it didn’t have to make sense. _

_ He walked along the corridor, one hand on the wall, feeling the bumps in the paint and plaster, until he suddenly stopped under the portrait of a knight on horseback. _

_ There was a seam here. _

_ The wall split a little, and a cool breeze was coming from the other side, but there was no door. Instead, at about hip-height, there was a tiny crack, and Ferdinand followed it with his fingertips to find a catch. He pushed, and it gave way. The piece of wall swung open easily, on lightly-oiled, silent hinges, and Ferdinand found himself walking inside. He wasn’t quite crawling, as it was large enough for his child’s body to fit through without a tight squeeze, but it seemed to slope downward forever. It wasn’t lit, and he kept his hands out in front of him the whole way, walking deeper into the darkness. _

_ Suddenly, his hands met a smooth surface, with light behind it. The other side of the tunnel, another secret door. _

_ Ferdinand pushed, and it opened to- _

He sat up, startled, grunting and looking around. Sunlight was streaming through his window, birds were singing on the balcony’s railing, and a servant had wheeled in a breakfast tray with a teapot and some snacks. It was still steaming, so it hadn’t been there for long, and as Ferdinand pushed back the blankets and swung his legs out over the side, he wondered what the dream had meant. It must have been _ something _, since he’d slept all night and had only remembered the one. 

He spent the morning sitting in meetings with his father - some engaging, some boring, but all of them important, and when they stopped for a mid-afternoon lunch, he was grateful for the chance to get away from sitting down. Instead, he took the opportunity between then and the next scheduled meeting to walk the hallways and admire the artwork. There were some beautiful paintings. A girl in a pond surrounded by water lilies, a mother cradling her infant, a man standing beneath a tree…

...a knight on horseback.

Ferdinand stopped. It was the same pose as in his dream, with the knight raising his arm, lance aloft atop the spirited horse. He quickly looked around; there was no-one about, so he reached out. 

His trembling fingers found the crack in the wall, and from beyond it, a soft puff of air. It was low to the ground, below his waist, and he wouldn’t be able to walk through this. Still, even as he pushed ever out of his teenage years, his curiosity got the better of him, and he slid his left hand over to where, in the dream, the catch had been. 

Ferdinand pushed ever-so-slightly. 

The hinges creaked, and the hidden door opened. 

There was a puff of dust, and he waved a hand in front of his face, crouching to inspect the passageway. Unlike in his dream where it had been dark but clean, this was filthy - full of cobwebs and skittering spiders, and so full of dust it made his eyes and nose water. 

Still, the promise of _ something _on the other side made him get down on his hands and knees, and start crawling. 

Even as he heard the door swing shut on its creaky hinges behind him, Ferdinand kept a hand out ahead of him, brushing webbing out of the way, coughing at the dust, but refused to stop. _ Something _was waiting for him. He kept going. 

When his hand hit the wall, he almost cried. Ferdinand pushed, but it would not budge. Suddenly alarmed that he’d locked himself in an unused, secret tunnel, having told no-one where he was going, fear seized him and he began banging and yelling at the wall, feeling it shudder under his fist. 

He backed up as much as he could, then sprang forward with everything he had, _ shoving _at the wall with all his weight. 

It gave way, swinging open, and Ferdinand tumbled out of the wall. 

Dust was in his eyes and in his nose and in his mouth and in his lungs, and Ferdinand hacked and coughed and spat, shaking and wiping himself off, hoping he wasn’t going to damage the carpet. He could feel, rather than see, the plush surface beneath him, and when he opened his eyes, he was confused. 

The room had no furniture, no windows, and no doors. There was only the hanging-open bit of wall behind him, and four walls. There was a fireplace - empty, cold, lifeless - and over it, hung a portrait of whom Ferdinand knew to be the previous emperor, Ionius IX. He was sitting in a chair, and to his sides were a massive hound of some sort, a black, shaggy thing with chartreuse-green eyes, and the other side was a small girl with long white hair and violet eyes. All three of them stared back at him from the painting, and Ferdinand quickly looked away. Though they were merely images painted in oil on canvas, they were still incredibly imposing. 

_ Wait_. 

Ferdinand looked up again. If there were no windows and no doors and no fire in the fireplace, how could he _ see _anything in this room? 

A light fixture above him was hanging at an odd angle. 

Scrambling to his feet, Ferdinand rushed to inspect it. It was a row of brass-toned handles with some sort of torch on the end. It wasn’t fire, the little ball was lit up but cool to the touch. Fascinated, he pushed it back, and the room went absolutely black. Below him, the door creaked shut almost automatically. 

_ Some sort of magic? _Ferdinand mused, the hair on the back of his neck raising at the sudden pitch-blackness around him. He fumbled, then pulled the switch down again. 

The room lit up from that tiny bulb, and the door swung open once more. 

Narrowing his eyes, Ferdinand glanced at the row. There were seven of the switches, each with a bulb on the end. Hesitating for only a moment, Ferdinand pulled the next switch. It lit up bright red, and from behind him, there was a _ whoosh _ing noise and the unmistakable sound of a fire. Turning in surprise, the previously-empty fireplace was now a cheerfully-lit hearth, with a roaring fire inside. He took a step closer and held out his hand. If it was an illusion, it was a powerful one, throwing both light and heat off of it. 

Turning his back to it once more, Ferdinand raced back to the switches and pulled the next one, which lit up in green. 

There was a louder creak this time, and one of the walls pulled back entirely, exposing a completely different room on the other side. This one looked lived-in, complete with messy bed, crammed-full bookshelves, plush furniture, and not a speck of dust. It even had its own fireplace, this one filled with half-burnt logs in an iron grille. Perhaps these were servant’s quarters? But this seemed too luxurious for that. 

Focusing once more on the switches, Ferdinand threw caution to the winds and yanked them all down. 

A great many things happened at once. 

To his right, the other wall opened half-way, exposing a narrow set of winding stairs lit with torches. 

From somewhere above him, soft music began to play. 

To his immediate left, a trapdoor opened in the floor, exposing a tunnel of stone and dirt leading away from the room. 

The seventh switch lit up a with a swirling silver light, but nothing appeared to happen. 

Nothing, until Ferdinand felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“I think,” a voice spoke softly, “you had best start explaining yourself.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ferdinand let out a scream that he was not proud of, and leapt off the ground, caught only by the iron grip on his shoulder. 

When he turned, he was looking up into an unfamiliar face, drawn and pale, framed by a short set of messy black curls. The face was stern but not angry, more confused. “Stop screaming.” 

“Oh...ah...sorry?” Ferdinand attempted, feeling sheepish. The man attached to the hand loomed over him, scowling a bit. 

“How did you even get down here?” 

Ferdinand pointed wordlessly to the tunnel, and the man sighed, releasing Ferdinand’s shoulder, only to bring his white-gloved hand up to his face and cover his eyes. “Ugh. I thought I boarded that thing up _ long _ago.” 

“Sorry,” Ferdinand apologized again, moving a step back to continue brushing dust and cobwebs from his hair and shoulders. “I suppose I’ll take the stairs out?” he suggested, trying to be cheerful, gesturing at the set leading up. 

The pale man sneered and shoved up the wall-fixtures, leaving them in darkness. “You’ll do no such thing,” he said, and his voice was right next to Ferdinand’s ear. Ferdinand suddenly realized how much trouble he was actually in, beginning to panic again. “Who knows you’re down here? _ WHO _ ** _KNOWS_**?!” 

“N-no one! Please, please let me go, I’m the son of the Prime Minister, if you don’t let me go, they’ll come looking for me; if you let me go I promise I’ll leave and never expose you, I didn’t even know there was anyone else living in the palace, please! Please don’t kill me!” 

There was a pause, and then the voice growled at him, deep and angry. “Son of that _ bastard _ who killed my Master and his family and left me behind, how _ dare _ you show your face here! I should kill you _ and _every one of those miserable souls who walk the halls upstairs!” 

“Please, please don’t kill me!” Ferdinand begged, tears of fright running down his cheeks. He could feel his heart almost beating its way out of his chest. It was pounding in his ears. “I promise, I’ll do anything!” 

“Oh yes, you _ will_,” the voice snarled, and suddenly there was pressure on his neck. Thinking he was about to be strangled, Ferdinand thrashed, trying to bring his hands up, but instead of a hand, there was only soft hair, easily tangled in his fingertips. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, he felt _ pain _ in his throat, sharp, too sharp to be strangulation, and he cried out, clutching at whatever he could in the inky blackness of the room. There was an arm, strong, around his lower back, the other in his short hair, pulling his head to one side as the pain in his neck increased, and Ferdinand _ sobbed_. 

“What are you doing? It hurts! It hurts so much!” he was crying and hiccoughing, messy with it, but the man did not answer him. After a second, Ferdinand began to feel a little faint, the pain still sharp, but it seemed to matter less. His head was light, and he blinked in the darkness, his hands dropping away from the man’s head, limp and useless. “Wh...what…” 

The pain stopped for a moment and the pressure was gone from his neck. Ferdinand in his hazy state could swear he heard a moan. “Be still. Be silent.” 

It was easy to comply, and he went limp again as the pressure returned, but this time there was no pain, only a sort of...sucking sensation. It felt very strange, almost like a kiss. But a very long one, a deep one. 

Ferdinand felt his head being cradled a bit more gently now, and closed his eyes. He really _ did _feel as though he were floating, limp and relaxed. 

When the pressure left a second time, the voice sighed. “Oh, it’s been so many years…” Unfortunately, the arm around his back began to let him go, and Ferdinand, unable to keep his balance, fell awkwardly backwards. One of his elbows hooked around a switch on the wall and pulled it down, lighting up the fireplace. 

Suddenly bathed in light, Ferdinand screamed again. 

The pale man was _ covered _in blood, all around his mouth and streaming down his throat, soaking into his shirt, and staining his gloves. He hissed, his mouth open wide, and Ferdinand could see the light glinting off wicked-looking fanged teeth behind his lips. He got a sudden burst of energy from the fear, and put a hand to his neck. It came away distressingly wet, and Ferdinand sobbed with fresh terror at the blood there. “Oh goddess, oh goddess!” 

“Be silent. The goddess cannot hear the screams of mortals.” the man crouched down in front of him. “I didn’t take enough to kill you. And turning you at this point would only cause me more trouble. But you...oh, I have plans for you. You will be my revenge.” 

“R-revenge?” Ferdinand was trying to squirm backwards, one hand still clamped to his neck. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but there was still _ so much blood_, how much could he safely lose without dying? “What _ is happening_?!”

“Ignorant boy. I am Hubert von Vestra, the last of the Imperial household, and I will not let their deaths be in vain. Your father and the rest of those traitors _ murdered _ us while we slept, and I only managed to escape because the young Lady Edelgard had insisted she wanted something from the outside cellars in the middle of the night and I had been sent out to fetch it. By the time I emerged, the flames had consumed the family I loved and served, and _ you and your family watched them die_.” 

“I don’t- I don’t- I don’t remember that-” 

But he did. _ The screaming, the screaming. The smell of burning flesh_. “Why did - why did they burn? W-we, they, they only shot the guards, didn’t they?” 

“They were no fools. Bullets cannot kill us.” Hubert got in his face, close, so close that Ferdinand could smell his own blood on Hubert’s breath. “She was about your age when I met her. And she was about your age when she died.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“You are _ truly _ ignorant. Go then, run back then to your father and ask him the truth about how the Imperial family died _ and why_. But I think you’ll find you’ll be _ quite _ unable to say much else about it, _ or _me.” 

“How…” 

“So full of questions. So full of _ blood_.” Hubert was nose to nose with him, and Ferdinand watched the reflection of the enchanted fireplace in his eyes, slow, dancing. He felt warm pressure on his lips, and parted them automatically, eyes falling shut. 

He had never kissed a man before, let alone one with snake-sharp fangs in his mouth, but he swooned anyway, the taste of blood an awful reminder of this strange monster’s true nature. Everything inside him lit up, tingling with some sort of magic, it felt like, as he sagged limp against the wall, the kiss going on and on. 

When Hubert’s lips pulled away, Ferdinand tried to follow, missing their luscious softness, his body almost forgetting the pain they’d just put him through not moments ago. “Please,” Ferdinand whispered, still in a crumpled heap, “please. Don't kill me. I don’t want to die.”

“You are _ mine_. You belong to _ me_, and you will _ serve _ me, and when the halls run with the blood of _ your _ family and _ your _ people, _ you _ will kneel at my side and suffer as I have, for all eternity.” Hubert stood, the blood on his front beginning to dry. “You will live with them, upstairs, during the day, and every night, you _ will _ come down to me, and you _ will _do whatever I ask of you.” 

The words bubbled up from within him, without his prompting, shocking Ferdinand to hear them fall from his lips in his own voice. “_Yes, Master_.”

“Good boy.” Hubert seemed pleased, the lines of his face curving upwards into the shadows. “Now. Use the stairs. When you reach the top, you will have no memory of this conversation.” he was cleaning up Ferdinand’s neck, almost tender, almost loving. “_You will have no conscious memory of me. But when you fall asleep in your bed tonight, you will awaken, and come to me_.” he paused, the silence stark against his honeyed, hypnotic voice. “But, uh, _ you will use the stairs to come back to me this time_.” 

“_Yes, Master… _ ” that same breathy, breathless voice flowing from him, an instinctive response to the command. Ferdinand’s head felt very strange and muddled, everything muffled as Hubert helped him to his feet and he staggered across the room to the stairwell. He went up, and up, and _ up _, and every stair felt a little heavier, every blink a little longer, until he was standing in the hallway, staring across the way out the windows onto the stables in the western fields. 

_ What an odd place to find himself_, Ferdinand mused. His stomach rumbled, and he decided it was time to find the dining room for supper. 

It was hard to stay awake afterwards, with his belly so full of food. He’d been hungrier than usual, and felt very bloated as he sat on his bed in his night-shirt, yawning and looking out the window at the stars until his head hit the pillows. 

Once he was fully unconscious, Ferdinand began to walk. He had never felt more awake before, more alive. All of his senses were highly attuned to the night. The eyes of the portraits on the walls seemed to follow him, and every shadow promised a dark, flickering hunger. 

Finally, he made it to where the secret stairs had let him out earlier (how could he have forgotten? And yet he had...he knew what had happened during the evening, but it was so foreign, as if someone else had been inhabiting his body). 

He had to get back before...before…

Ferdinand scurried down the stairs and into the room with the fireplace, quickly pulling the lever on the wall and dropping to his knees, clasping his hands in his lap. He was trembling all over as Hubert stepped out of his chamber. 

“G-good evening, Master,” Ferdinand managed, not able to look up at him. 

“Good boy.” Hubert walked around him in a slow circle, appraising. Ferdinand shrank even lower, still shaking badly. “While it is gratifying to have you cowering at my feet like an animal, having you shake like that is unbecoming. Come. Get up.” 

Ferdinand scrambled to his feet, still a bit shaky, but curiosity was winning out. “Why did you want me to come back?” he asked softly. 

“If I had had you set the house ablaze or kill everyone today, it wouldn’t bode well for me. I need to think of something long-term. A slow plan.” Hubert mused, beckoning. Ferdinand followed him into the adjacent room, and the wall slid shut behind him again. With another gesture, Ferdinand perched on the bed, looking around the room. 

Magic light-balls, similar to the ones on the wall-switches, lit the room. The four-poster was massive, with bedsheets and velvet bedcurtains, drawn on one side. There shelves of books, pieces of artwork, and Ferdinand would have felt as though he were in a treasure chamber had it not been for how frightening it all was. 

Hubert was talking. Ferdinand snapped back to attention. “-how humiliating it would be for the Prime Minister to learn that his son was the servant of the vampire he neglected to kill, ten years ago…” 

“Vampire?” Ferdinand looked up and up at him. 

Hubert gave him a sideways glance. “You still didn’t have a name for me until now?” 

“Well, no…” Ferdinand admitted awkwardly. “I thought that vampires were only stories that parents told their children to frighten them in the dark.” 

Hubert sneered. “I was told the stories too, when I was a child, until the Imperial family took me in. I was made into a vampire to serve them eternally.” 

“For...Edelgard?” he tried to remember the name of the little girl in the painting. 

“For her father. When _ he _ was a boy.” Hubert straightened his sleeves. He was immaculate, completely clean of blood. “There are two classes of vampire. The first are vampires of _ birth_. If you are born to a set of vampiric parents, you have no weakness to sunlight and can walk in the daytime. Silver and holy symbols will not burn your flesh. All other vampires are _ made_, with the exchange of a vampire’s blood for yours.” he gestured at Ferdinand, who felt his hand go up to his neck automatically. “Lady Edelgard was born a vampire, so she would age naturally until adulthood. I, however, was frozen in time the way I was when I was made.” 

“A-are you going to...to _ make _me?” 

“Not yet.” Hubert shook his head, picking something off a shelf and coming over with it. He clucked his tongue and Ferdinand held out his hands. “Right now, I need you alive and human. I can’t go out in the daytime. But _ you _can.” 

Hubert dropped a dagger into them, and Ferdinand whimpered. 

It was heavy, ornate; a dark omen in his hand. “Is this…” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Oh.” Ferdinand held it, hands shaking. Then he took a breath, closed his eyes, and tossed it violently in a random direction. 

Hubert was upon him in a heartbeat, pinning him down to the bed on his back. “How _ dare _ you, you are _ mine_, you are to _ do as I bid you_, how _ dare _you defy me!” 

“I don’t want - I don’t want - I don’t want to hurt anyone! Please, please don’t make me do it!” Ferdinand cried out, screwing up his eyes tightly and curling up as much as he could under the vampire’s grip. “I’m sorry they all died, but killing my family won’t bring yours back!” 

“All I want is revenge!” Hubert snarled, his hand at Ferdinand’s throat, squeezing. 

“Then-” Ferdinand gasped, “Then just take it out on me! Do with me as you will, but don’t hurt anyone else! Please!” 

“Your pretty words won’t change my mind,” Hubert growled, but his hand released Ferdinand’s throat just a little, and it gave him an idea. 

“I said I’d do anything you wanted,” Ferdinand murmured, opening his eyes, trying to keep them low and submissive. It wasn’t difficult to do, since Hubert was close and still terrifying. “Anything else...I meant it. And I’m still yours…” 

“That’s right, you are.” Hubert growled, but he seemed to get where Ferdinand was going with this, and pulled back with a sneer. “Very well. For every night you can keep me entertained, I will let your family live. You may try whatever you like, but I doubt you will last very long.” 

Ferdinand sniffled, sitting up and rubbing his tears away with the back of his hand, then taking a few deep breaths. “I-I know...some things.” he ran through his brief list of sexual experiences in his head, then ran through his other talents. “You could make a request…” 

“I suppose we can start with something simple.” Hubert sat down on the couch, spreading his legs wide. “And we’ll see if you can handle me.” 

Ferdinand slid off the bed and swallowed hard, coming over and dropping to his knees between Hubert’s thighs. He reached forward, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he undid the laces and worked the vampire’s cock free. He was half-hard, interested but not overly so, and Ferdinand gave it a few experimental strokes before leaning forward and putting his mouth on it. 

The flesh wasn’t as warm as the few other dicks he’d put in his mouth, but it had blessedly little flavour, making it easier to keep against his tongue. Ferdinand focused, breathing steadily through his nose as he closed his lips around the shaft, slowly moving up and down, keeping his hand there as well, and he was grateful for it after a moment when Hubert unexpectedly thrust upward, preventing him from choking. Ferdinand pulled back a bit, pressing a kiss to the tip before licking it over and over until Hubert growled and sank his gloved fingers into Ferdinand’s hair. 

“Suck me off. Do it now.” 

Ferdinand felt himself being pushed down, and desperately swallowed to stop from gagging, sucking as much as he could and jacking Hubert with his free hand. There was a lot of saliva gathering and he used it in his fingers, really doubling his speed and trying to finish this quickly. He was rewarded for his effort as Hubert groaned, pulling at his hair until tears came to his eyes again, but he managed to swallow everything. Hubert seemed to keep coming and coming into his mouth, but it had no real flavour, and slid down his throat just the same. 

He pulled back and off with a gasp, coughing a little, still settled on his knees. 

Hubert gave him a moment before petting his hair, then patting his thigh. “Come up here.” 

Ferdinand climbed into Hubert’s lap, and was rewarded with a surprisingly tender, if brief, embrace. The vampire stroked his hair, then ran his gloved fingers down Ferdinand’s cheek to his throat. Taking a shuddering breath, Ferdinand tilted his head obediently to the side, a silent offer. 

The pain was red-hot but only brief this time, the initial bite before that pleasurable sucking sensation took over, and Ferdinand did his best not to squirm, even as he found himself getting a little aroused. He honestly didn’t know what to do with himself at this point, so he just slid his hands up around Hubert’s shoulders and held on. 

The sensation ceased and he was being kissed, the bite licked and lapped until it stopped bleeding, and Hubert hummed. Ferdinand felt a little sleepy again, but moaned in an embarrassingly high-pitched tone when he felt Hubert’s hand push under his sleep-shirt and begin to stroke his cock. 

“Nodon’t...I...ahh...all right…” Ferdinand murmured, slumping forward and resting his head on Hubert’s shoulder. Hubert put one hand on Ferdinand’s back and kept stroking him with the other. At first he’d been afraid of the vampire actually hurting him - he had a horrible vision of Hubert ripping his dick off and leaving him to bleed out - but when it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, he let himself enjoy it. The handjob was as lazy as he felt, just rocking his hips and riding Hubert’s thigh. “S’long as you don’t...bite it.” 

Hubert chuckled, and Ferdinand shivered. “I’ll bite whatever I like. But there’s no need. You’re close enough already.” 

With a few more strokes, Ferdinand squealed, legs thrashing a bit as he arched into Hubert’s palm, coming so hard his toes curled, sagging heavily against the vampire and panting sharply. As he came down, he realized Hubert was sitting very, very still, and it dawned on him that Hubert wasn’t breathing, didn’t need to. Cautiously, he put his palm on Hubert’s chest. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just...checking.” There was no heartbeat, of course, just like the stories. Still, it was so strange that he had to feel it for himself. 

Hubert took his wrist, gently removing Ferdinand’s hand. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but then Ferdinand found a little of his strength, standing and holding out his hands to Hubert. 

“Come to bed,” he murmured, coaxing, gentle. “I’m sleepy.” 

To his surprise, Hubert got up from the couch and followed him, undressing as he went. However, instead of pulling on any sleep-clothes, he pulled Ferdinand in close to his naked body before lowering them to the bed. He buried his face in the warmth between Ferdinand’s neck and shoulder, and Ferdinand put a hand up, stroking at the vampire’s soft curls, keeping his touches light and gentle. 

“I still own you.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“You’re still _ mine_.” 

“Yes, I am.” Ferdinand closed his eyes, breathing deep and even.


	3. Chapter 3

Ferdinand woke up in his own bedroom, and sighed as he scrubbed his face. He had no idea how long he stayed with Hubert last night, but he didn’t seem overly sleepy, so he assumed it hadn’t been _ that _long. Had he been commanded back here with memory loss again? He knew his nightly duties now, at least. 

Washing and dressing for the day, Ferdinand began to make a mental list of all the things he could do, not just of a sexual nature, but other entertaining things. Wondering if Hubert could eat or drink anything but blood, he decided to bring some snacks tonight. 

The morning was full of long meetings again, but after lunch, Ferdinand managed to get to the stables and began brushing one of the horses in the hopes of finding one suitable for him to ride. He selected one of the mares, easing her into his touches and singing to her softly, and after a few moments she stopped flicking at him and relaxed under his hands. It would take a few days, but he didn’t mind, and he rolled up his sleeves, really getting into the simple act. She made noises at him every so often, but only when he appeared to have hit a tender spot or an insect bite, and forgave him quickly. 

According to one of the groundskeepers, her name was Flame, and she was seven. She and her fellow mare, six-year-old Storm, were responsible for little these days, aside from pulling the occasional guest-carriage around the grounds. He was happy to share his knowledge of the horses with Ferdinand, who was eager to start riding again. Still, he made sure to treat Flame with care, offering her slices of his apple as he snacked from the small orchard-style gardens on the palace grounds. Keeping a single small apple in his pocket, he left Flame in her barn, and went inside for the evening’s duties. 

Tonight, he didn’t wait to fall asleep. He knew what he had to do, and Ferdinand quietly changed from his day-clothes to a more loose shirt and breeches, comfortable and soft, and waited until the hall was quiet before sneaking to the staircase and coming down. Resting his hand on the lever in the empty room, he glanced once more at the portrait above the magical hearth. 

The Emperor, his daughter, and the massive black dog stared back at him, cold and silent. He shivered, then pulled down. 

Hubert did not emerge from him room tonight, but ushered him in with a wave, and Ferdinand went, less terrified and more coherent than before. “Good evening, Master.” he still bowed deeply to the vampire, and was met with a polite nod. 

“Good evening, boy.” Hubert was in the middle of writing something in a book. He had a quill pen, a fully-feathered old style, and was using a dipped inkwell set into his desk. The pages were spread open, drying in the air as he wrote. Since the book was already bound, the pages couldn’t be removed without damaging them, and had to be painstakingly written out slowly, allowing for each side to dry individually. 

The book looked very thick indeed, and Ferdinand marvelled at the vampire’s patience. Still, after being alive and frozen like this for decades would surely test a man’s patience and he’d either come out like Hubert, or stark raving mad, or perhaps Hubert _ was _stark raving mad and just hid it well. Or this was a manifestation of that madness. 

Ferdinand tried to settle his racing mind, but it was of little use. Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out the apple, still fresh from the afternoon’s pick, still ripe and golden. 

“Do you eat?” he inquired. 

“No.” 

“_Could _you eat?” 

“I could. I choose not to. I do not need food anymore, and I have no baths in my apartments.” 

“Ah. So, when you drink blood, where does that go?” 

“I imagine my body consumes it entirely. Where are you going with this?” 

“Well, I brought us a snack, I was thinking we could share it.” Ferdinand looked around. He spotted that - ceremonial dagger once more, and took it off the shelf, using it to cut a slice off the apple. “You should try some! It’s really delicious!” 

“No.” Hubert turned his back on Ferdinand, returning to his book. “I told you, if I eat, I’ll need to shit afterwards.” 

“Well there’s no need to be so crass about it,” Ferdinand replied, his mouth full of apple. He ate another slice. “Besides, there’s baths upstairs you could use. The whole palace is asleep, I bet you could have an _ actual _bath and not have to worry about anyone walking in on you.” 

“Or I could murder every man, woman, and child, every guard, drain their blood, and stretch their skins on the roof as my flags,” Hubert said grimly, not looking up from his writing. 

“Ah, that business.” Ferdinand swallowed his apple, feeling sick to his stomach. He put it and the dagger down, coming over to Hubert’s side. “What are you writing, anyway?” 

“A book of divine revelations. Do you _ want _something?” 

“You, er, my side of our bargain to keep my people alive is to come down here and keep you company every night. If you want, I can go upstairs back to bed-” 

“No. No, you’ll stay here. Sit.” Hubert scowled, waving his hand at the couch. Ink flew from the tip of his pen and dotted on his cheek. 

“In a moment.” Ferdinand got out a handkerchief and gently wiped at the vampire’s face. 

“What are you-”

“You spilled ink on yourself. Give here.” Ferdinand fussed at him, and Hubert glared but held still until the handkerchief was removed from his skin. “See? All better now.” 

“You are _ entirely _too cheerful for this situation. Do you not realize I could kill you in an instant? Can you not stop your endless prattle?” 

“Oh, I do, I’m fully aware of just how much you could kill me and I imagine in some pretty awful ways, but you haven’t killed me yet, so I don’t think you’ll kill me tonight.” Ferdinand sat on the couch, plucking at some loose strings and humming, looking around, then glancing back at Hubert. “That black dog in the portrait outside-”

“That’s me. Goddess, you lasted less than a minute.” 

“So you can turn into a dog? I never knew that about vampires! Is it just the one kind of dog? Can you shape-shift into anything? Oh, what about bats! Can you turn into a bat? Can you fly!?”

“How is it that a grown man can have a child’s level of energy after a full day and sitting in a room with a terrifying monster who could kill him at any moment?” His voice was tinged with amusement that he either couldn’t hide or wasn’t bothering to hide, and Ferdinand beamed at him. “And how many more questions can you _ possibly _ask in a single breath?” 

“Show me the dog!” 

Hubert twitched, growling. Ferdinand could hear him muttering something, feather-pen scratching at the page. 

“Please? If you show me how you turn into a hound like that I promise I’ll stop asking questions until you’ve at least finished your next page!” 

“Ugh.” He watched as Hubert put his pen down, standing up and turning, pushing in his chair. “But only so that you’ll give me a moment of _ silence_.” 

There was no transformation, no puff of smoke, no flash of light. Instead, Hubert was there one moment as a man, and the next, a massive black dog sat on the floor, its fur sleek and luxurious, its eyes the same shade of pale green. Ferdinand found himself reaching out to touch, it looked so soft. 

The dog that had been Hubert growled, arching its back, fangs exposed when its lips pulled away from its jawline. It had rows upon rows - too many teeth for its mouth, and the more Ferdinand looked, the less dog-like and more monstrous it became. 

Perhaps he lost his mind when he transformed. Did he still know who Ferdinand was? 

“It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you,” Ferdinand murmured, his fingertips straining-

The dog snarled, snapping at the fingers, but Ferdinand refused to retreat, and leaned forward off the couch in a darting motion. 

He was rewarded by the feeling of soft, silky fur under his fingers, surprisingly warm, unlike the vampire’s skin. The dog seemed surprised, the anger dissipating at the gentle touch, almost confused. 

Ferdinand kept stroking, over and over, moving up between the dog’s ears, able to get both hands now, kneeling in front of the massive beast, petting and stroking down its neck and back, lost in the incredible softness against his palms. 

“I bet Edelgard loved to play with you as a child-” Ferdinand mused aloud, forgetting himself for a moment, and was met by a brutal backhand to the face from a suddenly-human-shaped Hubert, full of cold fury. 

“Don’t you _ ever _ dare to talk about Lady Edelgard. You do not have the _ privilege _ of speaking her name to me, _ filth_.” He raised his hand again, a fist this time, and Ferdinand raised his arms, trying to protect himself, cowering back against the couch, still on the floor. “I should kill you right now!” 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Ferdinand gasped, fumbling through the pain and shock, tears hot against the burning pain in his cheek from where Hubert had hit him the hardest. He moaned as he moved his hands, coming away wet with not only tears but blood, dripping from his nose. The impact had not broken it, but had battered it enough to bleed. The entire left side of his face felt like it was on fire. “I didn’t know - didn’t mean to - I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me again!” 

Hubert knelt on one knee before him, and as Ferdinand watched through his fingers, his eyelids flickered at the sight of the blood on Ferdinand’s face. He leaned in, gloved fingers pulling Ferdinand’s chin forward and licking at the free-flowing blood which had by now dribbled down over his lips. Ferdinand winced at the sensation and tried to pull away, but the vampire’s grip, as ever, was like iron, and refused to budge. 

“You are _ mine_,” Hubert confirmed, “and I will teach you over and over again of this fact if I must. You will learn very quickly the limits of my patience, and the dangers of testing me.” he reached up, taking the half-eaten apple that Ferdinand had brought, and before Ferdinand’s eyes, crushed it in his palm. The juices ran down the white glove to his wrist, and the pulpy bits dropped to the stone floor. A single seed bounced and then slid between the cracks to the earth below. “Everything you do in my presence, you do at your own risk, _ boy_. It would do you well to remember your _ place_.” 

“Yes, M-master.” Ferdinand retreated a little, lowering his head and wiping his face with the handkerchief. At least the bleeding had stopped, though his face still ached. It would be difficult to explain that mess in the morning to his father, especially if Hubert had blackened his eye in the process. 

“Good boy. Now clean me up.” The glove was pushed against his mouth, and Ferdinand had no choice but to open his lips and lick at the pulpy mess, getting all the bits of apple off that he could, until the vampire was satisfied. Once cleaned, Hubert stood and returned to his book, settling on his chair and dipping his pen into the inkwell, beginning to scratch at the page again. 

Ferdinand eased himself off the floor and onto the couch, gently touching his face. He winced at the pain, almost tearing up again, but managed not to. Clearly bringing up the Imperial family would be a sore spot, he should’ve known that would be the case. It appeared that although the vampire had a violent, unpredictable temper, he calmed down just as quickly for he was calmly writing his book once more. 

True to his word, he remained silent while Hubert finished his page. When at last he put the pen down and sat motionless in his seat, Ferdinand took a breath. 

“Did you write...that entire book?” 

“Yes.” Hubert’s voice was calm. 

“Wait.” his eyes flickered around the bookshelves, realizing they were all similar to the one open on his desk. “Wait, wait - did you write _ all _of these books?” 

“Yes.” the vampire turned in his chair, glancing back at Ferdinand. 

“All by hand, one page at a time…” Ferdinand breathed, rising from his seat and plucking one from the shelf, letting it fall open in his hand. Sure enough, it was the same neat, delicate printing as the drying page on the desk, and even though his face hurt, he kept going, reading aloud from the random page the book had fallen open to. “-he was not wild, then, but well-kept, well-groomed, a man of status and of cunning, of great age and knowledge of this world, and bold. For he had been borne across the waves of the sea on his great ship, the _ Pegasus_, and he had known years of both hardship and plenty, and walked his path with the dedication of a wolf and the passion of a man, and all who knew him, loved him.” Ferdinand held the book open in his hands, looking over at Hubert, who merely met his gaze with a stare, albeit a powerful one. “This is...this is beautiful. You write with more heart than any living man I know.” he blinked. “Where does it all...come from?” 

“Years of isolation.” Hubert shrugged. “I had to fill my time with something, and writing my revenge plans over and over only served to fuel impotent rage. I decided to make something better.” 

“You did indeed…” he turned the page and kept reading, though this time in silence to himself, standing across the room, poring over the next three pages before he felt Hubert’s presence behind him. “May I...may I borrow this?” 

“No.” Hubert put his hand - the glove was now completely clean and dry, by some magic, perhaps whatever he had cast to remove the blood, previously - over the pages, where Ferdinand’s was keeping it open. “My books stay down here, with me, in darkness.” 

“They should be brought into the light, where all the world could read them!” Ferdinand argued, well-aware that he could very easily be prompting another violent outburst, and perhaps this one would break his nose. “If they’re all like this, they should be shared!” 

“Enough of this. If you want to read them so badly, you will have to do so during your nightly duties with me.” Hubert attempted to take the book from Ferdinand’s hands, but Ferdinand would not let go, and after a few seconds of tugging, it was clear Hubert did not want to rip the book for all the world. 

Those precious pages, it seemed, were to be protected more than the human’s bones. 

“Put it back before you leave, or you will not be _ allowed _ to leave.” Hubert stormed off to his desk again, checking the ink’s dryness with the feathery end of his quill-pen. 

Ferdinand moved to the nearest piece of furniture - the bed - and sat, and turned the page.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me on my way home from work: Hmmm I should have Hubert like some sort of instrument that he can play for Ferdinand...violin would be too clichéed...maybe a harpsichord or something?  
Me seeing someone else writing a story about pianist Hubert: FUCK
> 
> so now we have this instead

Even though he had stayed for many hours quietly in the vampire’s quarters, when Ferdinand awoke in his own bed in the morning, he felt well-rested, as though he’d had a full night’s sleep. He supposed it was something in the vampire’s magic, and he was grateful for that, even though when he checked his face in the mirror, he still had a bruise on his left cheek. He touched it and winced, wondering how to hide it. Finally he decided on some cream that he had, mixing in some peach-chalk from his cosmetics box, smoothing it across the mark. It covered it fairly well, looking only like a shadow, and Ferdinand went for breakfast feeling a bit better. No one commented on his face, and he managed to make it through the morning without much fuss. 

Stepping outside into the fresh air was so lovely, and Ferdinand sighed happily as he felt the breeze lift the ends of his hair, walking towards the stables. Flame seemed indifferent, but warmed up after a few minutes of good brushing, and even let him pet her around the face. He tried to check her teeth and she nipped him, snorting, then walking away to rub against one of the posts in the stable, leaving him to his sore fingers. 

By evening, his make-up had sweated off, and his mother had commented. Luckily he’d been able to blame it on Flame, saying she’d headbutted him, but his mother hadn’t really believed him. With nothing else to ascribe it to, though, she’d had to accept it, and he merely got a scolding to pay more attention around the animals. 

Ferdinand wound his way quietly down the hidden staircase, but instead of pulling the lever for the vampire’s room, looked them over again. Focusing on the row, he pulled the blue lever. Music began to fill the room, very softly. Curious to see where it was coming from, he began to inspect the empty space. As he was sticking his head into the fireplace, he heard Hubert’s voice. 

“Have you lost something?” 

“Ah! I was looking for the source of that,” Hubert gestured in the direction of the switch, bringing his head down out of the chimney-like area. 

“Well, get down from there. If you really must know, I’ll show you. I know by now that you’re relentless, so it’s best if we do this and get it over with.” 

Ferdinand slid out of the fireplace and followed Hubert, who had pulled the switch back to its off position. Once inside Hubert’s room, Hubert opened up a wall-cabinet and undid a few straps around something, easing a large, heavy-looking wooden...thing...from where it had sat. 

“I had this connected to some mechanical trappings so I could still hear it.” Hubert perched on the bed, looking up at Ferdinand. “Do you know what this is?” 

“No.” Ferdinand came over, gently brushing his fingertips over the carved wood. “Some sort of instrument, I’m guessing?” 

“I heard it called an organistrum,” Hubert nodded. “Sit, sit there.” he gestured with his elbow at the spot beside him on the bed, and Ferdinand sat next to him, letting the box-part of the instrument rest in his lap. “See that handle there? Wind it. You may have to push.” 

“All right…” Ferdinand put his hand on the metal crank, beginning to turn it. It took some amount of effort, but as he turned, the box suddenly let out a much louder noise and he immediately jerked back. 

“Not scared of a vampire, but scared of a little instrument?” 

“It’s a _ large _instrument!” 

“Indeed. It takes two people to play it. Keep winding.” Hubert ordered, and Ferdinand obeyed. As he pushed the crank around and around, it produced a sort of nasal-y whining noise, a droning sound, but then Hubert did something - moved his hands - and there was suddenly a melody on top. He almost stopped again in amazement, but forced himself to keep going, cranking the handle as Hubert silently worked what appeared to be tiny wooden levers and keys. He was pulling up little wooden sticks, bound in string of different colours, probably to differentiate notes, Ferdinand thought to himself. He knew _ some _things about music, but had never seen such an instrument before. 

Hubert lifted and moved the keys a few more times, then stopped, putting a hand over Ferdinand’s, stretching out to stop him. They sat like that in silence for a moment, the vampire looking at the ground, Ferdinand looking at the instrument. 

It suddenly occurred to Ferdinand that the reason the organistrum had been in the wall was that Hubert was unable to make his own music alone. 

And he had been alone for years. 

Alone, in silence. 

No wonder he had a machine to work it for him. To take the part of the second person he needed to make the instrument play. 

“It looks old,” Ferdinand murmured. “And delicate. Was it a gift? It doesn’t look like you’re a woodworker or luthier.” 

Hubert smirked, then snorted, then laughed. It was a cruel laugh. “The Emperor took it from a church he disagreed with. Then he had the church burned to the ground. This is a holy instrument. It was used during the liturgical ceremonies. Now most churches - the larger ones, in any case - have pipe-organs. It’s a relic.” 

Ferdinand quietly stroked the precise wooden cuts. “It’s beautiful, though.” 

“It makes an ugly sound.” 

“Only if you don’t play it properly.” Ferdinand looked over at him. “When you were playing, it sounded nice.” 

Hubert looked at him for a moment, lips parting, as though he were about to speak. Then his face darkened, and he picked it up like it was weightless, smashing it on the floor violently. Ferdinand leapt back onto the bed with a cry, avoiding the splintering wooden pieces and screeching metal as the strings snapped and broke over the wheel. 

“Holy relics only burn our skin, anyway.” Hubert turned his back, going and settling at his writing-desk again, stiff and proper, taking his quill-pen from the inkwell. “Dispose of that trash. Put it in the fireplace and set it alight. It should never have been removed from the church.” 

Ferdinand waited a moment, then slowly slipped down from the bed, gathering up the bits of broken instrument from the stone floor. He inspected one of the little wooden keys, then put it into his pocket, piling the rest in his arms. Heading to the enchanted fireplace, he quietly knelt, putting the pieces on the grille, then stood back, and pulled the bronze lever for the fire. 

The lever lit up red, and the organistrum went up in flames. Ferdinand watched as it was devoured, the intricate carvings cracking and splitting, licked and blackened. Chunks of it fell to the stone hearth below the grille, smouldering. 

“Ferdinand. Come here.” 

Ferdinand went, and knelt at the side of the vampire’s seat. Hubert did not look at him. “Yes, Master?” 

“I want to look at you.” 

“But...you’re not looking at me.” 

Hubert nodded, still scratching away at his page. “Take your clothes off. I want to look at your body.” 

Ferdinand stood, quietly removing his clothing and folding it on the bed, then coming back to stand beside Hubert. “Like this?” 

“Very good.” The vampire finished his page, then turned, his gloved fingers stroking along Ferdinand’s midsection, then up his chest, slow, reverent, and surprisingly gentle. Ferdinand stood as still as possible, just breathing, watching as Hubert explored his naked body. 

He kept it fairly non-sexual at first, over Ferdinand’s muscles, across his shoulders and arms, around his waist. Eventually he strayed, the white leather brushing Ferdinand’s hips and thighs, the outsides of his thumbs stroking along Ferdinand’s cock together. 

Ferdinand shivered, watching him intently. They were both wordless, the only sound in the room coming from Ferdinand’s now-heavy breathing, cock stiffening as Hubert began to deliberately and slowly stroke him with a gloved hand. Biting his lip, Ferdinand watched as the vampire leaned in, lips parting, looking as though he were about to take the head in his mouth. 

Before he could stop himself, Ferdinand blurted out, “Please don’t bite me!” and Hubert’s jaw snapped shut, pulling away and glaring up at him. 

“I wasn’t going to, and what makes you think I’d let you in my mouth, anyway?” Hubert sneered at him, standing and walking to the bed. From the angle, Ferdinand could see how hard he was in his trousers. “Get on the bed.” 

Assuming he was about to be fucked, Ferdinand scrambled over, looking around desperately for some sort of lubricating agent. He’d had sex with a man only once before, and it _ had _been good, but it had taken several long minutes of stretching and oiling and the vampire didn’t seem to be a patient man for that sort of thing. As he climbed on with his hands and knees, Hubert went into a drawer and Ferdinand sagged with relief as he spotted a small bottle in his hands. 

Ferdinand grabbed a pillow, hugging it to his chest, burying his face in it, and willed himself not to cry as he felt fingers spreading him open. _ When had Hubert taken off his gloves? _

It was cold, and uncomfortable, and Hubert seemed to care only for the barest preparation, but he _ did _get him slippery with it, so slick in fact that Ferdinand could feel it running down his thighs. He hugged the pillow tighter as he felt Hubert remove his fingers and a heavier weight settle between his knees. 

It hurt. 

Hubert hadn’t spent enough time stretching him, and it burned. Ferdinand sunk his teeth into the pillow, trying to relax. He could feel Hubert moving inside him, cool fingers digging into his hips as he started thrusting. Ferdinand breathed in to the rhythm of Hubert fucking him, and by focusing on that, the pain slowly dulled. Finally daring, Ferdinand reached between his legs and began to stroke his own cock. Hubert didn’t seem to care, just kept fucking him, and Ferdinand squeezed his eyes shut tight and imagined it was good, that he’d wanted this, that he’d asked for this, and it was a lover taking him. Perhaps a strapping knight, or one of his fellow officers from the academy, or even a woman with a prosthetic piece. 

No woman with a fake cock could come inside him like this, though. He felt it when Hubert released, heard him sigh, felt him grip tightly, felt a cold gush, deep. He shuddered, still furtively stroking himself, and finally Hubert seemed to take notice of this, for there was a dark laugh, and then a hand knocked his away. 

When the vampire began to stroke him, Hubert dropped his head and shoulders fully into the pillow, moaning. Hubert was _ unbelievably _ good at this. Despite the rough fucking, his hand was fast and strong and was pulling on him and pleasuring him ways that Ferdinand didn’t even think could _ exist_. He was dripping and drooling like an idiot, leaking from both ends, hips jerking as Hubert stroked and twisted and played with him. It felt so good he was _ keening_, helpless, reduced to the heat of his cock between his legs and the magnificent hand bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. 

When Hubert slipped his thumb over the tip, Ferdinand _ begged _ him, gasping, mouth loose from the pillow long enough to _ cry _ for release, bitterly sobbing when Hubert let go of him, letting him hang and quiver, so close his hips thrust by themselves, trying to _ fuck _ into something and come. He tried to squeeze his legs together to get a little more friction _ just a little more, just a few more seconds and then - _but Hubert kept his knees wide apart, making Ferdinand whine with frustration. 

“Please- pleaseplease_ please _ -” Ferdinand cried, feeling hot tears prick the corners of his eyes. Hubert’s laugh wasn’t cruel, but it sounded as much, and Ferdinand felt that wonderful hand return to his thigh, caressing him up and down, but ignoring his cock. “Come _ onnnnn_!” 

“Hmmm, not until I’ve found out everything your body can do for me,” Hubert purred. His hands moved up the underside of Ferdinand’s chest and began to rub at his nipples. 

Ferdinand panted again, shoulders shaking and straining with the effort it took to maintain his position. Hubert’s fingers were just as creative here, starting to tug and pull and tease, pinching until Ferdinand was sobbing again, wondering if the vampire could coax him into coming untouched like this, just playing with his nipples. “Ohhh, ohhh, _ ohhh _…!” 

The hands were taken away once again and Ferdinand _ broke_, sobbing bitterly. “_NO! _ No, no, no, no no...please, I’m so close. I’m _ soclose _please don’t stop!” 

“Perhaps in a moment.” Hubert’s voice was smarmy above his head, and Ferdinand was delirious. He was sure if he could see his own cock (if he could see _ anything _at this point, really, so hazed with pleasure) he would be leaking like a fountain, a steady stream onto the bed. It felt like he had molten coals in his belly, weighing him down, hot and heavy and hard as a rock between his thighs, pulsing in torment. 

There was a shift in weight, cold skin against his back, a hand brushing the hair off his neck, and then Hubert _ bit_. 

Ferdinand _ exploded_. Everything released all at once, and he came so hard he nearly blacked out, hips thrusting forward with each pulse, and he swore he hear _ feel _ himself blasting on to the sheets, they felt so strong. Hubert’s teeth in his neck seemed to draw blood on the off-beats of his cum, _ suck-shoot-suck-shoot-suck-shoot _until he was completely spent, dropping forward into his own mess. 

He let Hubert manipulate his limp body, moving him to the side. Ferdinand vaguely recognized that Hubert as cleaning them up a little, but he was practically boneless as Hubert stroked his face and kissed his eyelids, surprisingly tender, but he was already falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

When morning came he was a bit stiff, but a quick wash and some stretching later, Ferdinand was fine, and he went to greet his father in his offices. To his surprise, instead of having in-place meetings, his father was nowhere to be found. After a few inquires, it appeared he’d headed out to the town shortly before Ferdinand had gotten up, and Ferdinand, never one to be left behind, asked for a carriage to be brought around for him. 

He rode into town curious and hungry, having not been here for many years. A bit of coin bought him a nice cut of meat, and he stood beside the stall and ate it, watching people pass him. Though he and his father shared the same shade of red hair, he looked nothing like him, and was grateful for that as no one gave him a second look. He walked through the morning market, curious at the sellers’ wares, enjoying the bantering and bartering all around him. He paid full price (overpriced, of course, but the man went on and _ on _about it, so he didn’t feel like haggling) for a wooden carving of a sea-bird in flight. It was all one piece; the soaring wings of the bird spread open up and down, touching against the rocks below. It was delicate-looking, and he lifted it with both hands, noting the highly-polished curves. 

One quick trip later - safely stowing it in the box under the seat in the carriage - Ferdinand kept going through the market. 

As the sun rose higher, people became more lively, and he thought about having a bit more to eat when the sound of music began to bleed through the chatter of crowd. He followed it as it became louder and louder until he broke through a small semi-circle of people. 

Men and women were dancing to the music in the town square, with a group of musicians seated and standing around a fountain. One had a drum hanging from a cord, tapping at it with a stick in intricate rhythms. Another had some sort of metal tube at his lips, a long horn curved back on itself. One had a small wooden pipe that his hands flitted about like butterfly wings. 

And one had a box. 

One hand was working the crank-wheel, and the other was resting on a carved wooden surface, as his hand flicked at pegs underneath the box, but it was _ the same sound _ and he was _ singing _ along, something simple and joyful and _ definitely _not sacred. 

Ferdinand could hardly contain himself, trembling from head to foot with excitement, but he stayed where he was, with the crowd, trying to be patient until the musicians finished. They went on and on though, and just as he wondered if he should go and come back later, one of the dancing girls left her partner and came up to him, grinning and taking his hands. 

Amused, Ferdinand went with her, and she began to step pointedly, and he copied her, keeping their hands together. Within minutes, he was dancing properly - if a bit awkwardly, as she was quite a bit shorter than he was - and laughing, spinning and twirling. 

Goddess, he wished this morning would never end. The girl’s laughter was ringing in his ears with his own, everyone around him just so _ happy _ and bright, enjoying the music and the sunshine together. He got so distracted that when the music ended and the girl stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek and thank him, he almost forgot that it was the _ musicians _he wanted to go with, not her, and stood there for a moment in glum silence as she strode away, filling her arms with flowers at a nearby vendor. 

Shaking himself out of his daze, Ferdinand hurried off after the musicians, who were packing up their items in leather skin bags. 

“Excuse me,” he breathlessly approached the one with the box, “I’m terribly sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice you have, ah, it looks very familiar, but I can’t quite recall - a friend of mine had something similar, what is that?” 

“This? It’s a hurdy-gurdy.” The man tapped the hollow part, opening it up. Ferdinand could see the strings inside, sitting over a series of keys and pegs. “It sounds like a fiddle, doesn’t it?” 

“It does!” 

“Well, there’s no bow, it’s just the strings against the wheel.” he gestured, moving the crank back and forth. Ferdinand’s brow furrowed; it made no sound. 

“Why isn’t it playing?” 

The man laughed. “I took the strings off the wheel. Here.” he sat on the stone fountain again, putting the box in his lap and demonstrating. Ferdinand watched, enraptured. “When I put them back on again, like this, see, I can make it go. See these pegs?” he gestured to the four at the other end of the box. “These are tuners. I put the strings in pitch with each other, so they make harmonies. Here, sit! Sit!” 

Ferdinand sat and the man placed the box in his lap, going to stand in front. “Go ahead and turn the wheel.” 

He began to push. It made that sound again, like a bow on a string, and the man nodded. “It would probably be easier for you, but how’s this?” he leaned down, moving one of the strings, and suddenly Ferdinand encountered more resistance to his pushing. However, in return, he was rewarded with the sound of two blended notes. 

“Oh!” 

“Here’s another.” the man added another string, now there were three. “I’m going to add the last one now,” he explained, over the music, so Ferdinand could hear him. “Keep turning!” 

With the fourth string in place, it now became much more difficult to turn, but Ferdinand could still do it, though his arm was getting a bit sore. Surely though it was just because he’d never done this before. He was an expert with a lance, this just had a different weight to it. “There. Now...put your other hand here.” The man brought Ferdinand’s other hand, the one not on the crank, to the pegs along the bottom of the box. “_Push_.” 

Ferdinand pushed. Suddenly the harmony changed, a new note. Amazed, Ferdinand experimentally moved his fingers to different keys. Some produced nice notes, others sounded awkward together, but overall, he was making _ music _from this box in his arms, and it was absolutely incredible. He didn’t want to stop, but his wrist was cramping up, and he finally stopped and looked up. “Thank you, sir.” 

“It was my pleasure. I don’t get many grown-ups asking me about it.” he chuckled. “Lots of kids, though, they’re spilling over with questions. Is it magic? No, it’s just a bunch of gears and wires and wood. But it sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, it really does.” Ferdinand hesitated, then lifted the box, handing it back to the man. “If I wanted my own, who would I commission for it? I imagine they don’t come easily.” 

“If it’s price you’re worried about, they’re actually not as expensive as you might think,” the man shook his head. “If you’re set on having your own, you can go to the Evenmarr family wood-shop by the clock tower, they’ll be able to have one assembled for you.” 

“Thank you so much!” Ferdinand helped him pack away his instrument, and watched him go. Then, he turned, quickly hurrying up the street. 

The store itself was easy enough to find, with beautifully carved wares in the street, samples of the merchandise in the shop’s front. Ferdinand wove his way between a desk and an armchair to the back where a boy was sitting on a stool. 

“Hello,” he inquired, puzzled as to the boy’s placement. “Are you, er, are you the shopkeeper?” 

“I’m minding it for my da,” the boy explained. “He’s gone off to get lunch. If you wanted to order something, you’ll have to wait for him.” 

“Ah, sorry.” he looked around, but as he began to sit, the boy protested. 

“Hey, you can’t sit in that til you’ve paid for it!” 

“Ah!” Ferdinand hurriedly stood again, brushing the chair down. “See? No harm done.” 

The boy continued to watch him with suspicious eyes until a few moments later when a big, burly man came through. 

“Da!” 

“Hey, boyo.” He was graceful enough as he walked through, and Ferdinand was amazed that such a big man could be so light footed. “A customer?” 

“Yes? Perhaps. I was told I might…” he looked around; nothing was an instrument. Still… “Might find out how to order a hurdy-gurdy?” 

“Ahh, yeah. We make the boxes and then they get strung. Don’t often get requests for those, but they do come in. Takes about…” he rubbed his fingers along his bearded chin. “Oh, four months.” 

“Four _ months_?” Ferdinand’s heart sank. He had assumed they were complex to make, but not _ that _long. 

“Well, if you had a broken one, we could have it fixed in about a week or so.” the man offered. 

Ferdinand winced, thinking of the splinters and ashes in the fireplace. “I’m afraid my friend’s instrument is...unsalvageable.” 

“Oh, you’re buying to replace a friend’s? Did _ you _ break it?” the man laughed, but stopped when Ferdinand curled in on himself, face going dark. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jest if it means that much to you. Your other option is to find a musician who’s willing to part with one of his, and buy it off of him. You’ll be payin’ more, though, since you’re buying his livelihood for almost half a year _ and _his new instrument.” 

Ferdinand bit his lip. His family was wealthy, but he’d have to ask his father for more if he intended to do that, and then he’d have to come up with a reason he had to have a hurdy-gurdy _ this instant_. “No, that won’t be an option for me, I’m afraid. Well, I suppose I should put in my request, then?” 

“Oh, certainly.” the man pulled a heavy ledger out towards him from the desk, nodding. “Now, in terms of payment. It’s half now, half when the instrument comes in and you come to collect it. You’re welcome to come in any time after about a month, see if it’s done any sooner.” he suggested, and Ferdinand nodded. “Sometimes if they have the pieces already, let’s say, some drunken prince wanders in and pays, then changes his mind, he gets his money back but they can’t exactly re-forge the pieces so they stay in a box until the next man orders one. You might not be waiting _ too _long if that’s happened.” 

Ferdinand left the shop with his pockets - and his heart - considerably lighter than they had been when he’d woken up that morning.


End file.
